


Close My Eyes and Take It In

by wincechesters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Blindfolds, Dom/sub, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sensory Deprivation, Sub!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-14
Updated: 2014-01-14
Packaged: 2018-01-08 16:36:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1134968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wincechesters/pseuds/wincechesters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean thinks about disobeying, about ripping the tie off his eyes and lunging towards Cas and crushing their lips together, but that’s not what this is about. If Cas wants him not to touch, there’s gotta be a good reason, and Dean had asked for this, wanted it. He pulls his hand back, letting it rest at his side on the bed, turning his head back to face the ceiling and letting his body relax into the rough coverlet of the motel bed.</p>
<p>“Good boy.” Cas’ voice is even lower and gruffer than usual and combined with the praise, it does crazy things to Dean’s body.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Close My Eyes and Take It In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thereisnosuchthingasunicorns](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thereisnosuchthingasunicorns/gifts), [nezstorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezstorm/gifts).



> Loosely inspired by a rather kinky conversation between Lena, Mar and myself involving boas, blindfolds and bondage (but unfortunately only the blindfold appears this time). You two make excellent muses and I hope you enjoy the fruits of our combined asshattery.
> 
> Thanks as always to Meg for beta reading and for all the encouragement. You're amazing and I don't know what I'd do without you.
> 
> And last but not least, thank _you_ in advance for reading! **Please note that Dean and Cas do not discuss a safe word in this particular work; please assume that this is not the first time they have played this way and have agreed upon a safe word in the past.**
> 
> I'm wincechesters over on tumblr if you'd like to come say hi! Enjoy! :)

The textured silk of Cas’ tie rests against the delicate skin of Dean’s eyelids, bound tightly behind his head and enveloping him in darkness. The coverlet beneath him is rough against the naked skin of his back and ass where he lies stretched out across the bed, and the dingy motel room is still, silent save for the harsh pants of Dean’s own breath escaping through his parted lips. He strains to hear, trying to locate Cas in the room.

There - Dean thinks he hears a faint rustling at the foot of the bed. He arches towards the sound, the small of his back coming off the bed, urging, begging with his body, begging for Cas to touch him, to slide his body over him and fuck him senseless.

Cas chuckles, his voice much nearer than Dean expected. He turns his head towards the sound, stretching out a hand towards him and he hears when Cas takes a step back from the bed. “No touching, Dean,” he orders. “You can make as much noise as you want, but if you touch, I’ll stop. Do you think you can handle that?”

Dean thinks about disobeying, about ripping the tie off his eyes and lunging towards Cas and crushing their lips together, but that’s not what this is about. If Cas wants him not to touch, there’s gotta be a good reason, and Dean had asked for this, wanted it. He pulls his hand back, letting it rest at his side on the bed, turning his head back to face the ceiling and letting his body relax into the rough coverlet of the motel bed.

“Good boy.” Cas’ voice is even lower and gruffer than usual and combined with the praise, it does crazy things to Dean’s body. His fingers tense as heat surges through his stomach, his hands clutching at the covers at his hip. He’s good. He can be good.

Cas’ hand cards through his hair, his short nails dragging gently against Dean’s scalp, sending shivers down his spine. “So good for me,” Cas says, his voice low and sultry as he slides his fingers over and over through Dean’s hair. Dean relaxes into the touch, relishing the tingling, tickling sensation spreading over his scalp and neck and shoulders.

Suddenly Cas’ hand tightens in Dean’s hair, tugging sharply and drawing a gasp from his lips. Dean’s body jerks against the bed, surprised, but he doesn’t give in to the reflex to lash out or pull away. The pain in Dean’s scalp lances straight to his groin, and he has to fight back a groan.

“Good,” Cas says, his voice low, and he pulls Dean’s head back, his neck arching under the strain. Dean tenses, waiting for another tug in his hair, but it doesn’t come. Instead, there’s a hot, wet slide over the hollow of his throat - Cas’ tongue - pressing against the beat of his pulse below the skin. Cas trails his tongue up Dean’s collarbone, his fingers still fisted tight in Dean’s hair, and then he draws back, blowing gently against the wet stripe and raising goosebumps on Dean’s skin.

The hand in his hair slides free, Cas’ nails scraping gently against Dean’s scalp as it drops away. Dean whines a protest and Cas huffs a laugh, his breath falling warm against Dean’s chest, and then his lips are fastening around one pebbled nipple. Dean moans, arching into the press of Cas’ lips. Cas’ mouth is hot against his chilled flesh, his tongue wicked as it circles and flicks the sensitive bud. Dean wants to press his hand to the back of Cas’ head, to hold him there. There are no restraints, nothing to stop him from moving, but Cas had told him not to touch and he said he’d be good, so he fists his hands in the rough material of the coverlet beneath him instead.

Then the heat of Cas’ mouth disappears, and there’s the sharp pinch of his teeth, pulling an involuntary cry from Dean’s lips. Cas worries Dean’s nipple between his teeth, tugging and teasing, and Dean wants to arch both into the touch and away from it, the pain pulling at a place somewhere deep in his abdomen, and he feels his muscles tensing under the sensation. It feels like too much and not enough; it’s painful and pleasurable at the same time, teasing him higher.

And Cas’ fingers are sliding low over his belly, a light touch dancing over his skin, and he tilts his hips upward, begging Cas to touch him, to circle his fingers around his cock and take him the rest of the way, but Cas ignores him. He walks his fingers over the soft flesh below Dean’s belly button, the touch light and almost ticklish, and Dean squirms, but then Cas’ teeth bite down harder on his nipple and his body jerks, his head slamming back against the pillow and his mouth falling open around a gasp.

Cas pulls his mouth away from Dean’s chest, his fingers still trailing back and forth over Dean’s stomach. He shivers, and then the touch on his belly is gone too, and maybe it’s the blindfold or maybe it’s the sensations running through his body, but he feels when Cas moves away from him this time.

He tries to follow the sound of Cas’ movement but he’s too quiet, too stealthy. The slide of his pants as he moves around the bed gets lost in the harsh gasps of Dean’s own breath, the rustling of the blankets fisted tightly in his clutching fingers. All of his nerves are at attention now, waiting for the next grazing touch, the next hot slide of Cas’ mouth, the next bite of his teeth or nails.

When one solitary finger falls on the crease of his thigh, dangerously close to his throbbing, leaking cock, he can’t help his moan, or the way his hips buck up. The finger trails down, feather light and sending sensation pulsing through Dean’s groin. Cas must be staring at him, staring right at his dick, and he wonders if Cas’ blue eyes are full of lust as they stare down at him, or if they are as calm and collected as the steady brush of the finger against his skin feels. He squirms under the scrutiny, but then the next touch is Cas’ mouth, the flat of his tongue easing over Dean’s hipbone and he forgets to be self-conscious, panting under the hot wetness of Cas’ tongue.

Cas’ hand closes around his thigh, his fingers pressing hard into the flesh as he sucks kisses into Dean’s hip, moving closer and closer to Dean’s cock. Dean feels the bite of Cas’ teeth under the soft press of his lips and the soothing slide of his tongue, and he hopes that he will have hickeys to count tomorrow.

But then all the questions fly out of his mind because Cas’s lips are closing around the head of his cock and a strangled cry bursts from his throat. Cas’ mouth is gentle, but his nails trail up and down Dean’s sides, leaving paths of fire in their wake. His hips jerk and Cas’ hands tighten around them, a silent warning, and when Dean forces himself to still, Cas sucks him all the way down.

And that’s just not fucking _fair_ because it feels so good and his hands actually twitch with the need to tangle in Cas’ hair, to reach up and rip the tie that is blindfolding him from his eyes. He wants to see his dick disappearing into the wet heat of Cas’ mouth, wants to clutch at Cas, but he fights down the urge, even when Cas hollows his cheeks and sucks, his tongue smoothing over the underside.

Dean’s good. He can be good.

“Cas,” Dean chokes out, his feet twisting and curling against the coverlet as Cas swallows around his cock. But then _no no no,_  Cas is drawing back, away, and Dean can no longer feel the cotton of his dress shirt against his legs. He feels cold all over as Cas’ heat disappears, and he strains upward involuntarily, his body trying to follow while his hands clutch even harder at the sheets beneath him.

“Get back over here you fucking cocktease,” Dean tries to snarl but it comes out instead as a desperate whine. His whole body is thrumming like a sharply plucked guitar string, his limbs trembling with tension, perspiration sliding down his neck and his cock aching and straining and leaving a pool of wetness against his abdomen.

Cas chuckles, a low, dark sound from the foot of the bed. “Patience, Dean,” he says, his voice amused. A finger slides up the arch of Dean’s foot, tickling, and he squirms away with a whimper. Then there is the sound of Cas’ clothes dropping piece by piece to the floor and all Dean can think is _Jesus Christ, fucking finally_ , and he rolls his hips upward, hoping Cas is watching.

The bed dips beside him under Cas’ weight and then there’s the familiar sound of the lube cap flicking open. A moan bursts from Dean’s throat as he spreads his legs, waiting for a teasing touch or a sharp sudden thrust of a slicked up finger, whatever Cas wants to give him, he doesn’t care. He waits and waits, his body tense with anticipation, his toes and fingers curling and uncurling in anticipation of Cas’ touch against his puckering hole.

It never comes.

Instead, Cas lets out a shaky breath ending on a groan and Dean’s whole body stills at the sound, an ecstatic shiver running down his neck as though Cas’ voice is a physical touch against his skin. Dean’s breath catches in his throat and holds, his head coming up involuntarily from the pillow as he listens. And there - a slick, wet, rhythmic sound, punctuated by the heavy pants of Cas’ breath and Dean just _knows_ that that fucking bastard is fucking himself on his own goddamn fingers and Dean _can’t even fucking see it_.

Dean’s breath leaves him on a pained moan, his body twisting under the heat unfurling deep in his belly. He wonders how many fingers Cas has got inside himself by now - is it two? Three? Are his eyes shuttered at the sensation, or are they open, pupils blown wide with lust as they stare down at Dean’s writhing body? He imagines the taut lines of Cas’ strong thighs and stomach and chest as he arches back into his own hand and Dean’s cock is so hard it _hurts_.

“Fuck, Cas,” Dean whines, his voice wrecked. His fingers are so tight around the sheets that his knuckles must surely be white, and he’s about 2.5 seconds from ripping the stupid tie off his eyes and throwing himself at Cas, the bossy asshole’s orders be damned.

Cas laughs again, but this time his voice is breathless as Dean’s. “Soon, Dean,” he gasps, the sound of his fingers plunging wetly into himself coming faster now. “You’re being so good for me, so patient.”

_Not for much longer_ , Dean thinks desperately because he just _can’t,_ but then his breath catches painfully in his throat as the bed dips again and he feels the heat of Cas’ thighs as he swings his legs over to bracket Dean’s hips. The cap of the lube bottle clicks again and then Cas’ fingers are slipping over the head of his cock and Dean arches into his hand with a strangled moan, desperate for the touch. The lube is cold on his flushed dick, but it warms quickly under the pull of Cas’ hand as he jerks Dean slowly, spreading the liquid and slicking him up in slow, gentle motions.

Then Cas’ hand stills on the base of his dick and Dean feels the shift of Cas’ knees against his hips. He has just enough time to draw in a breath before Cas is sliding down on top of him, enveloping him in his tight heat, wrenching a cry from Dean’s lips. His whole body tenses, fighting the instinct to thrust up into Cas, and he listens to the broken sound of his and Cas’ breath. He wants so badly to touch, to slide his hands up Cas’ stomach, to roll his nipples under his thumbs, to curl his fingers around the back of Cas’ neck and drag him down for a kiss.

And either Cas takes pity on him or he wants it too, because he bends at the waist and captures Dean’s lips with his own in a searing kiss, his tongue plunging, possessive, into Dean’s mouth. Too soon Cas pulls back, his teeth tugging at Dean’s full bottom lip before drawing away, leaving him gasping and wanting. He groans at the loss, but the sound chokes off because that’s when Cas moves, the muscles of his thighs tensing against Dean’s hips as he pushes himself up on Dean’s cock and then slides back down with excruciating slowness.

Dean’s toes curl into the blankets. “Cas,” he gasps raggedly, “you feel so fucking good,” and he can’t help the way his hips jerk, thrusting up into Cas. His whole body is burning, every nerve on fire, teased and tantalized by Cas’ hands and teeth and tongue and all of that rushes to pool in his stomach as Cas rides him, clenching around Dean’s cock as he slides up and down Dean’s length, moving faster and faster.

The tie is tight against his eyelids, his ears full of the sound of his own ragged breath and Cas’, mingling with the protesting creak of the ancient bedsprings beneath them. Cas’ hands are braced against Dean’s ribcage, his fingertips digging into the flesh. And Cas is hot and tight and slick around Dean’s cock and he feels so good, so _fucking_ good, that Dean knows he’s not going to last. His balls are tight up against his body and Cas is fucking down onto him like his life depends on it and Dean’s gonna come, he _needs_ to come, but before that -

“Cas, please!” The cry is torn from his lips and he throws back his head, his fingers clutching impossibly tighter at the sheets beneath him as he fights off his impending orgasm. “Please, I need to see you,” he begs. “Need to see you when I come.”

And Cas moans and then he’s ripping the tie from over Dean’s eyes. Dean’s vision is filled with Cas in the dim motel room light, all taut muscle and flushed, naked skin, moving above him in a desperate fury. Cas’ pupils are blown wide, his eyes dark, his plush lips parted, and he stares down at Dean, looking debauched and hungry and so fucking gorgeous that Dean fucking _shouts_ his name and comes, thrusting up hard as Cas slams down onto him. The force of his orgasm roars through him, his blood rushing in his ears and heat exploding in his belly, but somehow he manages to keep his eyes open and thank _fuck_ for that because he sees Cas shudder and curl his fingers around his own cock, sees him jerk himself as he rides Dean through his climax. And then he sees the look on Cas’ face - eyes rolling back in his head and lids fluttering shut, lips gaping wide on a gasp - when he comes all over Dean’s chest in thick, hot strings of white.

Cas collapses heavily against Dean’s chest, heedless of the mess between them. His lips slam into Dean’s, tongue stroking until Dean’s lips part beneath it. He pulls back to kiss hungrily along the sharp cut of Dean’s jaw, his lips moving against Dean’s skin.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs. “So good for me.” His voice is low and reverent and filled with wonder, his breath hot as it washes over Dean’s skin.

The praise settles warm in Dean’s chest, his mouth curling into a smile. He presses into the touch of Cas’ lips against the bolt of his jaw. “Can I touch you now, asshole?” Dean asks, and Cas huffs a laugh, nodding in the crook of Dean’s neck.

“Anything you want.”

Dean’s fingers uncurl, painful and stiff, from the fabric of the blanket, his muscles protesting as he moves his arms to wind them around Cas’ broad back. He’s going to be sore tomorrow, he can tell, but he doesn’t care.

His fingers splay wide across Cas’ cooling skin, stretching to touch as much of him as possible. He trails his hands over Cas’ body, sliding up the curve of his spine to caress his shoulder blade, up the tight muscles of his neck to tangle in the thick strands of his hair, drinking him in with the touch he’d been denied.

Cas props himself up on his elbows, his lips curling and eyes crinkling with amusement as Dean’s hands move to his face. Dean traces the curve of his cheekbone, the plane of his nose, his fingers rasping over the stubbled jaw to land on his full, pink lips. And then Cas bends to kiss him, his mouth gentle against Dean’s, combing his fingers slowly through the short strands of Dean’s hair.

Dean grumbles a protest when Cas rolls off of him and disappears into the motel bathroom, lets Cas clean the come off their bodies with a warm cloth when he returns and tuck him into bed.

When Cas finally slides under the covers, he curls around Dean without having to be asked, their legs tangling together beneath the rumpled sheets of the motel bed. Cas is a warm heat at Dean’s back, his hand pressed over the lazy beat of Dean’s heart. And as Dean drifts off into a heavy, contented sleep, he thinks he feels Cas’ mouth fall, soft and warm and the gentlest of touches, against the back of his neck. 


End file.
